Page 102 of Devoted

“And you can tell me why you reacted like that,” I said, cupping his cheek. “I want to understand you, Zeke. Will you let me in?”

“I can, but there are parts I can’t share with you. Not yet, anyway. Not without explaining a lot more stuff. And for that, I’d prefer we were indoors, somewhere we can’t be interrupted.”

My curiosity was piqued, but I tamped it down. “That’s okay. Just tell me what you can. I want to understand, Zeke.”

His chest shuddered as he exhaled. “Can we walk while I do? I think it might help.”

“Of course.”

I slid my hand back into his, matching his strides. I had to bite my lip to contain my grin when I realised he was intentionally taking smaller steps so as not to outpace or rush me.

My joy was erased at Zeke’s next words. “My mother died when I was seven.”

Seven.A crack appeared in my heart. “Zeke, fuck. I’m so sorry.”

“It was just myself and my father after that,” he continued as though I hadn’t spoken. I suspected he was forcing himself to get through this as quickly as he could. “He wanted me to be stronger than I was. Tougher. Unbreakable.”

“Why? You were just a child.”

“Because of what I am,” Zeke said simply. His eyes flicked to mine briefly. “It’s part of what I’ve got to tell you. It will make sense, I promise. I can go into it now, but…”

“No,” I said quickly. This was clearly a painful subject for him. It didn’t matter how confused I was, or how bright my curiosity shone, this wasn’t about me. It was about Zeke. The sooner he got this out, the better. Everything else could wait. “Just continue with what you can.”

“He trained me night and day. Whole months would pass where I didn’t see the sun, just the walls of the room we fought in.”

Training? Fighting?The more he told me, the more questions I had. Instead of asking them, I tried to put myself in his shoes. A young boy who’d lost his mother, forced to remain indoors for long periods of time, training for god only knew what. Was his father a believer of some crackpot conspiracy theory?

It didn’t matter really. Knowing what his reasons were didn’t change the fact that Zeke’s father was a monster.

“Did you see anyone else?”

“No.” Zeke’s throat clicked as he swallowed. “From the age of seven until I was seventeen, the only contact I had with anyone was with my father.”

“What about school?”

“He taught me what I needed to know.” Zeke’s tone was so flat, it made me want to scream. To find this man and let my intrusive thoughts have control for once. “That’s what he believed, anyway.”

“Being isolated for that long…” My voice trailed off as my heart cracked. “I can’t even imagine how you must’ve felt. It makes sense why you fly off the handle. You missed out on a crucial period of socialisation.”

“That’s not why. At least, it’s not the only reason.” Zeke’s footsteps were speeding up now, like he couldn’t help himself. Like he wanted to run from this. “I’ve always had this…rage inside me. A monster that constantly fights to be free. To take over and unleash itself.”

A chill went down my spine. How often had I thought about my OCD like that?

“My mother taught me to contain it,” Zeke said quietly. “But my father, he set it free.”

“Why?”

Zeke huffed, turning his gaze to the sky. “Guess he thought it’d make me more powerful. Unstoppable.”

“And has it?”

He laughed without mirth. “You saw how easily I took down the twins. As much as I hate the fucker, Father might’ve been onto something.”

“Are you saying you can’t take them down without losing your temper?”

Zeke paused, like he was genuinely considering it. “Possibly. It depends on their mood. If they lose their temper or are pushed too far, it takes several of us to rein them in.”

I still didn’t understandwhythey needed to be capable of such violent behaviour, but I trusted Zeke when he told me it would make sense when I’d heard the whole story. Was I even safe here, if everyone was so violent?

---